


morning routine

by procellous



Series: tumblr prompt fics [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, POV Theon Greyjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26070757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procellous/pseuds/procellous
Summary: Robb and Sansa are still asleep when Theon slips out from the furs on their bed.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark/Sansa Stark
Series: tumblr prompt fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889671
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	morning routine

**Author's Note:**

> Back at the beginning of time, Angelica requested this ficlet, and months later I actually wrote it, and even more months later I'm posting it to AO3. I have _excellent_ timing.

Robb and Sansa are still asleep when Theon slips out from the furs on their bed. It’s not unusual for him to be the first one awake—he sleeps lightly, startling awake at slight noises outside their latched and bolted door of heavy oak—and it’s beginning to get light outside their narrow window. He might as well get up properly; it’s not as though he’ll be getting back to sleep.

Getting out from between them without waking them is something of a struggle. Sansa is almost as light a sleeper as he is, and while Robb sleeps deeply he also wakes quickly. They’ve turned towards him in the night, their arms thrown over his waist.

Sansa mumbles in her sleep as he leaves, rolling over into the space he’s left. Robb clings to her like a limpet, because Robb has never been able to share a bed with someone without cuddling them.

Theon loves them both so much he aches with it.

He stokes their fire up a little higher and picks up his knife. Technically, he could let someone else fletch arrows for him, but he likes it, likes being useful, and it helps steady his hands. The feathers split easily, straight cuts down the quill as he trims them down.

After a while, he hears the tell-tale shuffle of Sansa getting up, her gown pulled loosely over her shift.

“Good morning, love,” she says, kissing his cheek.

“Good morning,” he returns, not looking up from his work as she sits at her loom. They sit a while in silence, with the scraping of his knife and the soft clicks of her weaving mingling with the crackling fire. A servant comes in as the sun peeks over the horizon with a tray full of breakfast.

The King in the North, when he manages to drag himself out of bed, has a terrific case of bedhead. Sometimes Theon wishes he could share these moments with someone, show them how incredibly lucky he’s been to have them both like this, soft and affectionate and human; but most of the time he’s glad that it’s only him who gets to see them waking up, see the way Robb rubs the sleep from his eyes and kisses them both without even thinking about it as he sets about the letters scattered across his desk.

“It’s too early for you to be cheerful,” Robb grouses. “What are you thinking?”

“Oh, nothing,” Theon says, turning back to his arrows. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”


End file.
